Oh How The Years Go By
by missloveableskylar
Summary: They're basically polar opposites, but they complete each other. / Sam and Carly-centric. Mostly Sam/Carly friendship, with some Freddie.


_In our times of trouble_

_We only had ourselves_

_Nobody else_

_No one there to save us_

_We had to save ourselves_

* * *

><p>Sam Puckett doesn't remember what her father looks like. Sure, she remembers the things he did, more or less, but when she looks the dude in the face, it's just black. No face, no head really, just a neck leading up to nothing. What she <em>does <em>remember, though, is her coming home from pre-school—a four-year-old—to see her mom sitting in the living room, lights off, staring at the TV that wasn't on.

"Mommy," She remembers asking shakily, "What's wrong?" Sam was scared, she knew that. Her mother and father had been fighting a little bit lately. And by a little, she meant _constantly. _Not just fights that would end ten minutes later with _Sorry, I love you_'s and pecks to the lips. No, they were screaming matches that would end ten _days _later with flipped over couches and broken plates. Sam would cower in her room, hands on either side of her head clenched in fists, rocking back and forth until the yelling and screaming stopped.

Her mother had looked over with glassy eyes, mouth set in a thin, tight line. She seemed to be looking past Sam, not really looking _at _her, more like looking _through _her. After what seemed like forever, but was probably only a few minutes or seconds, her mom actually looked at Sam. Her eyes filled with anger as she remembered the events that had occurred earlier. Pam knew her daughter should come first, but at that point she was too angry to deal with Sam at the moment. She got up and stormed out to her room.

Sam watched her mother go. It wasn't like she could do anything, she was tiny, and her mother was, well, _not. _She turned forward and realized the state of the living room. The couch was (surprisingly) not knocked over, but that was the least of Sam's problem. Every cabinet in the kitchen was open, with no plates inside them and glass all over the floor. The counter was free of all its items and Sam could see them on the floor. The couch may be turned upright but the table sure wasn't. The entire china hutch, her mother's most prized possession, was tipped over, glass all over the floor. Sam was glad she was wearing shoes or she wasn't sure if she would have feet at _all, _that's how bad it was.

Eventually, realizing she couldn't really do anything, Sam went to sit on the couch. She didn't turn the TV on, because her mom might've been asleep and she didn't want to wake her up. _Why not? Daddy and her wake me up all the time, and Sammy needs her sleep_, she thought bitterly. But, she didn't like those thoughts so she stopped thinking them. Next thing she remembers is being woken up by her mom, shaking her shoulders somewhat gently. The TV's on, _did I do that? _

"Hey, Sammy, you fell asleep." Pam said gently. She had taken a hot shower, dried off, and then took a cold shower so she could cool down. She owed Sam an explanation to why her dead-beat father wasn't around anymore (and probably never would be again).

Sam groggily rubbed her eyes and yawned. She looked around, then asked "Mommy, where's Daddy?"

Pam sighed, rubbing her temples. She had sworn to herself that she wouldn't get angry again, that she wouldn't scare Sam. It was a hard job to do since naturally, Pam was kind of an angry person. But she didn't want Sam to grow up to be one. "Sweetheart, your father has gone away." She whispered.

Sam furrowed her eyebrows. Gone away? Where? _Why didn't he take me? _"Where did he go?"

"Well, I don't know. He didn't say, nor did I ask. I didn't really want to know at the time, Sammy."

_But I do, _Sam thought. Her eyes widened at a thought that suddenly sprang to her mind, a really sour one. "He's gonna come back right, Mommy?" She asked hopefully. _Right?_

Pam smiled sadly. He did say he would—no he _promised. _He also promised to love her for better or worse, so she couldn't count on his stupid phony promises. But Sam, at her young age, definitely could, and that was enough for her. "Sammy, your daddy _promised _he would come back." At her daughter's very happy look she added, "But not for a while."

Sam didn't really care when he came back—as long as he did. She smiled and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. Her mother smiled sadly again and kissed her forehead. She caressed her hair for a few moments before letting out a sigh and heading to her room. Sam went to hers too, the one she shared with her twin sister, Melanie. She wished in her head that Melanie was here—not in Arkansas with they're grandmother.

Instead of seeing dirty blonde hair and rosy cheeks, she sees a dark, empty room and climbs into bed.

…

Carly Shay remembers _everything_ about her mom. She has every little thing her mom ever gave her, from the time she was four to the time she was six—and it's still not enough.

Her mom died of lung cancer when Carly was six and Spencer was thirteen. They were devastated, especially her dad. But he got through it—for them. She may not be a mom anymore, but he was still a dad and he wanted to be a good one. And Carly loved him for it, always would.

When her mom was alive, Carly was the biggest Mommy's Girl, _ever. _Spencer called her a sissy, but she didn't care. Yeah, so what she followed her mom around almost everywhere, so what that, whenever they were at gatherings or parties, Carly would be glued to her mom's side? She loved her mom more than anything in the world and she was going to show it. And if Spencer wanted to call her a sissy, so be it. (He always apologized for it after and hugged her for a long time, so Carly didn't worry about it.)

But when her mother was in the hospital, Carly couldn't stay with her. Her dad wouldn't allow it, because she _you have kindergarten Carly!_ So she went to school, she played with the other kids, but she always missed her mommy. _Always. _Carly sucked it up, though, because her mom would've wanted that. So, she got it.

After her mom passed away when she was in first grade, she started getting really jealous of the kids who had their mommy. She would hide in the bathroom and cry her eyes out until she was sure that her eyes had run out of tears. That didn't stop Carly from making her mom a Mother's Day card every time the sad holiday rolled around. Her mother deserved it—she was the best. She would have Spencer walk her to the grave and she would put the card down and kiss the headstone. "Rest in peace, Mommy, I love you," She would whisper.

Then her mom, _the wind, _would hug her, and give her the strength to walk home.

…

When Melanie came back three weeks later, she cried really hard. She had—sorry Mel—acted like a spoiled brat. She would throw fits every time someone mentioned him, kicking and screaming and making a fuss—while Sam hadn't shed a tear, not _one. _She knew her daddy was coming back, Mommy said so. She said he'd promised, and you _keep _those babies. Plus, her mommy never lied to her, or Melanie.

But there was one problem—she was _dying. _

She hadn't told anyone of Daddy's promise, not a soul. Her mom hadn't said to keep it a secret, but she kind of wanted to. But with Melanie back and everything, she wanted to tell her _so bad. _Whenever she sees her, her lips tingled and her palms got sweaty, like she's going to open her mouth and blurt it out, but she couldn't do that because she'd be letting herself down; breaking her own promise: that'd she wouldn't tell anyone.

-;

She broke it anyway.

Sam woke up in the middle of the night because she had to go pee. She had heard sniffling and she knew it was Melanie. She padded over to her bed and poked her. Melanie looks up and wipes her eyes, but it's a lost cause because Sam already saw her tears.

"Why are you crying Melanie?" Sam asked, although she's not stupid; she knew why.

Melanie huffed out a hot breath, blowing her bangs upwards. She pulled back the covers and sat up in bed. "Daddy's gone, Sammy! I miss him lots! Don't you?" Her lower lip quivered and there were tears in her eyes again. She blinked and lets fat tears out.

_More than you know. _She scratched her head to get rid of those stupid thoughts, _maybe I am stupid? _Because she _knew_ he was coming back. "Mel I'm gonna tell you something, but you gotta _swear _not to tell anyone, okay?" Melanie stayed silent. "_Okay?"_

Melanie nodded hastily and stuck out her pinkie. Sam rolled her eyes, but locked pinkies with her and didn't let go. "Mommy told me, with her own mouth, that Daddy promised her he'd come back." She whispered. Melanie's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. Sam giggled, using the knuckles of her free hand to wipe away Melanie's leftover tears. She hugged her sister and then crawled back into bed, and fell asleep.

There were no more fits from Melanie.

…

Carly is eight and Spencer is fifteen when she brings up Mom at dinner.

It was an accident; she didn't even realize what she'd said until she saw her dad looking down at his plate with sad eyes and Spencer's eyes really wide in her direction. She froze, dropping her fork down noisily on her plate. When she answers, it's a very quiet, "Dad I, wow, uh, Dad I didn't mean to, I'm sorry—"

"That's alright, Carly." Her dad interrupted in a quiet voice she doesn't even recognize as her dad's. _Who is that? _He looked up and there were tears in his eyes, which she hadn't seen in a while. Not since—not since Mom passed. He cleared his throat and threw his napkin on the plate full of mashed potatoes and roasts beef, then got up and left the table silently. Carly opened her mouth to speak, but it seemed that her voice wasn't working.

Spencer took his and her plates and put them in the sink, then turned around and said, "Look, Carls, it wasn't your fault—"

But she didn't hear the rest because—before her tears fell—she ran up to her room and shut the door quietly since there was a no slam rule. She does ignore the no lock rule and locked it, not wanting Spencer to walk in on her crying her soul out. She felt _awful. _The tears rolled down her cheeks, leaving hot trails in their spots. They dripped into her mouth, and made her breath jerky and quick. She eventually got up—after about two hours of pure salt water—and went into the bathroom to splash fresh water onto her face in an attempt to calm down. She sat in the bathroom until her eyes weren't puffy anymore and breathing evened out. When she did get out, Spencer was sitting against the wall next to the door.

She walked past him and into her room, leaving the door open this time in case Spencer wanted to talk—which she was sure he did. She lied in her bed, under the covers, and stared up at the ceiling trying not to blink. About five minutes later, she heard a soft knock on her door even though it was open. Spencer walked in and shut the door—again, softly—behind him. He sat by her feet on the bed, looking down at his hands.

"Look, Kiddo," He started out. She murmured out a soft "don't call me that" that was so unlike her it scared her. He went on. "Dad's just upset, not in a mad way, in a _sad _way. He hasn't gotten over Mom. He misses her _so much, _you know? She was his world."

"She was _my _world, too. Wasn't she yours, Spence?" She had whispered. Her breath hitched and she went back to staring at the ceiling in order not to cry.

"No," He said. Her eyes widen, and she stared at him like he was crazy. "'Cause I have _you,_ Carls; you're my little sister, you kind of mean everything to me." He said, like it was simple. _Maybe it is._ She felt the corners of her lip twitch and she broke into a small smile. Spencer can always make her feel better, no matter the problem. It's one of the things she loves about him.

"This can't happen again," She said seriously; because it _couldn't. _That was the worst day of her life, for real. Spencer scoffed like she was joking but she really wasn't, so she made him vow to _never _bring up mom again; he did. She vowed the same thing.

Crazy thing is they've kept the vow.

…

Sam was already eight years old, and her dad still hadn't come.

She had given up, thrown in the towel, because it was a little late in the game for him to come back then. But Melanie—she still believed he was coming. She still stared at the door in anticipation, just like she _and _Sam used to when they were little. Sam didn't really have the heart to tell her she was being stupid and their skunk bag of a dad wasn't coming back. But that would've just made her _cry _and Sam really didn't want to deal with that and she was sure her mom didn't either.

The last few months before were hard on their mom, so Sam made a promise to herself that she'd stay good—for Mom. She may not be the best, but she's the only one they've got, so Sam could try a little harder. She also promised to keep that promise to herself, because she didn't keep the last one. So she tried harder on _that, _too.

The year after, she gave up on that promise because her mom gave up on being a mom.

…

Carly met Sam Puckett in fourth grade.

She was a mean little girl with sandy blonde hair and strong legs and arms. She didn't do her schoolwork and she pushed and hit people. She talked back to the teachers without a stutter, had been to the principal's office more times than Carly could count, never backed down from a dare, and had been suspended _seventeen times. _

She was also Carly's best friend.

She didn't even know how it had happened. One minute Sam pushed her off a swing, and the next she was at Carly's house every day after school, and Carly didn't mind—she _likes _it. Her dad didn't really like Sam, he thought she was a bad influence (she probably was), but Spencer did. He thought it was 'creative' or some jazz. But Carly—Carly loved Sam. She never thought she'd like a girl like her, but she did and she didn't regret it. Everybody only saw the bad parts of Sam, but there are _a lot _of good parts. She's really funny, fun to hang out with (she's never boring), she speaks Italian, and it's awesome to watch her dance (she can do the splits).

She also met Freddie Benson in fourth grade.

He was a nerdy little boy with chocolate brown hair and weak legs and arms. He always did his schoolwork and got pushed and hit by people. He was a teacher's pet and proud, had never been to the principal's office, always picked truth, and had never, and never would be, suspended.

He was also Sam's worst enemy.

She knew how that happened though. He was kind of a nerd and Sam gave him at wedgie, and Carly helped him. He stared at her like she was some type of goddess—now that was creepy. Sam punched him in the arm, _hard _and said "quit staring, freak!" then looped her arm through Carly's arm and they walked away. The next day he was at her house after school with pie and she invited him in. Carly didn't mind that either—she liked that too. Her dad _loved _Freddie, said _Carly, great choice of friends! Way better than that Sam girl _and that rewarded him with a scowl. Spencer liked him, too (he likes everyone). Carly—she liked him too. Then Sam was at the door in a flash, walking in her apartment and freezing when she saw Freddie. She didn't even say anything, just turned on her heel and walked right back out, slamming the door behind her.

If she'd had to choose between Sam and Freddie, it wouldn't even be a choice.

(It'd be Sam, if you were wondering).

…

Sam was ten and Carly's at her house when her mom comes home with a random guy.

They were up in Sam's room listening to music and doing Carly's schoolwork when she heard the door slam. She told Carly she was going to go say hi to her mom and that Carly could talk to Melanie or something. She walked down the stairs and saw her mom making out with a dude with a bald spot on his head.

"_Mom!" _She screamed, running the rest of the way down the stairs. Her mom didn't even flinch. She ran over to them and pried their faces apart, spit going all over the dude's face. "_What _are you doing?"

Her mom wiped her face with the back of her hand (EW) and smirked. "Just havin' a little fun, Sammy; don't hate," She said. She then laughed a horrible little laugh and turned to look at the guy's face. Her eyes flickered to his lips and then they were kissing, a hasty, eager kiss that was sloppy and more than a little gross.

She screamed.

A loud scream—a high-pitched wail that had her mom and the guy flying apart and Carly and Melanie running frantically down the stairs. "_Samantha Puckett!" _Her mom screamed, standing up and getting down in Sam's face. Sam's eyebrows rose, almost as if to say _you wanna piece of me? _Then her mom was yelling, _screaming _at the top of her lungs, moving into the kitchen and waving her hands in the air.

She was yelling louder than she had in years, and Sam kind of thought she was yelling just to hear her own voice. But Sam was yelling back, louder than she ever thought was possible for _anyone _to yell. Melanie tried to break them apart, but Sam pushed her away—literally—so she and Carly stood on the sidelines, watching with wide eyes. Then her mom opened the cabinet, took out a plate, and broke it. Sam froze; that was exactly what she and her dad did before he left, and no matter how much she kind of hated her mom, she needed her and didn't want her to leave. "I want him out. _Now,_ or I'll make him leave myself." She whispered murderously. There was still fury in her eyes, more than Pam thought _should _be in a girl Sam's age.

Sam didn't let her mom reply. She swiftly turned around, took the dude by the shirt, and literally _threw _him out, her following behind. Carly shuffles out the door too, to make sure Sam didn't do anything she would regret, but Sam was nowhere to be seen. She came back three days later after spending them in the park, the Burger King down the street from the park, anywhere so she didn't have to be home, with _her. _

Her mom became whore of the year and Sam became cock block of the year.

…

Carly was in the sixth grade—although she was twelve—and Spencer was officially an adult and out of the house when her dad (Colonel Steven Shay) got shipped overseas. He came into her room where she was hanging out with a girl named Lacy, and told Lacy she needed to go home. Carly had started to protest, stuttering and stammering, but her dad gave her this _look_—a look that said _Carly Shay, your daddy has something to talk to you about. _So she stopped talking and walked her friend to the door.

Her dad sat her down at the dining room table and told her in a quiet voice. She got the breath taken out of her and grabbed her coat and sprinted out of that house like it was on fire. She froze at Freddie's door across the hall, then walked numbly over and knocked. There was no answer and she was half relieved and half disappointed, not really having control of her feelings—or nerve-endings—at this point.

She had still been hanging out with Freddie, she just didn't tell Sam. She liked Freddie a lot (as a friend) and she didn't know what she would do without Sam so it was kind of the best of both worlds. She would love to hang out with them both, at the same time, but she really didn't see that happening in the near future.

She kind of actually wanted to talk to Freddie, but since he was not home she couldn't. So she ran, she _flew; _running blindly—not having the slightest sense of where she was going until she was in front of Sam's door. She walked right into the house without knocking (Sam does it constantly), walked right past Pam, and up the stairs to Sam and Melanie's room. She let out a breath when she saw Sam eating a sandwich, relieved.

"Hey Sam, I'm so glad your home," She said, walking into the room and shutting the door. "I really need a friend right now." Sam put down her sandwich—looked like Pb & j—and looked up at Carly expectantly. Carly had smiled at her friend, thankful she was not as mean to her as she was to other people. "I already went to Freddie's but he wasn't there so—"

Sam eyebrows shot up, "So you went to that techie _geek_ before you came to _me?" _She scoffed in disbelief, reaching over to pick up her half-eaten sandwich.

"Look, Sam, his house is right across the hall, it was easier, okay? It didn't mean anything." She said tiredly. With all the news she had gotten that day, she really didn't need a fight with Sam to top it all off.

"It meant everything, you barely even know this kid, and—"

"That's not true," She said. Carly's eyes widened; she hadn't meant to say that, but Sam was annoying her, and this was a way of her staying quiet. (Too good to be true).

"What do you mean?"

Annoyance once again bubbled up inside Carly and she huffed out her breath and rolled her eyes. She _really _wanted to get up and leave before they said something they would _both _regret, but the stubbornness in her (gets it from her dad) wanted to get the last word, the win that fight or whatever. "I _mean _I've been hanging out with him. He's nice, Sam; yeah, he may be a little nerdy but if you look past that—if you stop being shallow—then you'd probably like him."

Sam scoffed again (that annoyed Carly too) and threw her paper plate, sandwich still on it, across the room, the leftover food flying all over Melanie's side of the room. She stood up. "You think I'm shallow, do ya'?"

_No, I think you're my best friend. _She—again—didn't mean to say that Sam was shallow, but she guessed she did. Also, she didn't want to get Sam angry because Sam was strong and can fight and Carly sort of _couldn't. _"If that's what you want to take it as, than sure, you're shallow. A-And you eat too much, and you're mean and bitter and not a nice girl!" After she was done with her little rant, Carly almost visibly clamped her hand over her own mouth. _What was going on with her?_

Carly wanted to apologize—to say that she didn't mean _any _of it, and could they just stop fighting? But Sam's eyes were wide and her mouth was slightly open. She saw cold, hard fury pool into Sam's eyes; saw her hands clench into fists. She stepped closer to Carly, right into her face. The scariest part was, when she did say something, she didn't yell; she whispered it, her breath fanning onto Carly's face.

"And you, Carly Shay? You think you're not shallow, ever, not once in entire life?" She scoffed, for the _third _time, right in Carly's face. "No, of course not; you're you, you're innocent and you're pure and have never done a bad thing in her life because you're afraid of the real world. Get real, Carly, stop living in your own head." She smirked then, an evil little thing that Carly decided she _hated. _She pointed to the door, and then gripped Carly shoulders _hard—_digging her nails into her shoulder blades, she whirled her around and gave her a shove. "Get out of my house," She ordered, slamming the door behind Carly.

-;

Carly felt awful, guiltier than she had felt in a while. It'd already been three weeks—three weeks without Sam and Carly felt so bad. She'd tried to call a couple of times, but no one answered. So it was three weeks of nail-biting and cheek-chewing, and wondering who was going to give in first, cave, and apologize.

Carly caves.

She knew she was going to do it anyway, that was Carly. Plus, Sam's her _best friend. _And she didn't mean anything she'd said, not a word. Her dad was shipping out in a week so she kind of wanted to spend all her time with him, but she would make an exception for Sam. She took a shower—a scalding hot one—got dressed and walked over to Sam's house. This time she knocked in a hope Sam would answer, but she should have known that's not Sam. Melanie swung open the door, sandy hair up in a classy bun and lips shining with gloss. Carly smiled because even though that wasn't Sam, she looked exactly like her and she hadn't seen that face in _weeks. _

"Oh, hi Carly! You here to see Sam?" Melanie asked happily in that over-enthusiastic voice of hers. She vaguely heard "I don't wanna see her, Mel!" but she ignored it, convinced herself it was her mind playing tricks on her.

"Yeah, she's here, right?" Again she heard "I _don't wanna see her! I'm not home!" _but she just smiled at Melanie and brushed past her, waving to her as she walked down the hall. Then she shut the door—a soft little click meant to show Sam that she didn't want to yell, or do anything like that.

"Hi Sam," She had said softly, brushing her too-long bangs out of her eyes. She smiled a little, but it wasn't like Sam noticed because she was at the dining table, eating pasta and sipping iced tea. She slid off her coat and set it down on the couch; she walked over and sat so that she was right across from Sam, only to find that Sam was avoiding her gaze. "Sam, I'm _so _sorry, I swear—I don't even know what happened, I don't even know why I said it, okay?" She said, desperation leaking into her quiet voice.

"I do," Sam supplied, "I'm a mean, bitter, girl who eats too much and isn't nice. That's why," Sam said, finally looking at Carly with a sad gaze. There were bags under her eyes and Carly thought that maybe Sam was as drained from this fight as she was.

Carly's eyes watered, but she looked down and quickly blinked them away because Sam didn't like crying. It's for sissies, that's what Sam would always say. She looked back up and locked eyes with Sam, a new determination to end this feud _that day. _"Sam, I swear on… my mother that I didn't mean any of that, and I'm sorry, so sorry. I've missed you, okay? You're my _best _friend, and I don't wanna fight with you, got it? So let's this thing, right here, right now, yeah?" (So maybe Carly was fibbing when she said they never broke the vow—but it was only once).

They talked about everything, and make-up. Sam even agreed to hang out with Freddie—although she said she wouldn't like it.

…

The third time Sam got sent to juvie is when she was twelve.

It's the summer before seventh grade and it was also Sam's birthday (she was _turning _twelve). She, Carly and Freddie were all gathered at Carly's house because there was no fucking way she was allowing _Freddie Benson _into her house (yeah, she still hated him). There were lots and lots of food—coconut crème pie, ribs with barbeque sauce, chili, and more—and three presents though truthfully, she would've been okay with just the food.

She opened the first one; it was from Melanie even though she wasn't there. She sifted through the—_gross_—pink paper to find a tennis racket. Sam groaned—Melanie had been pestering Sam to join in tennis lessons with her and Sam had adamantly refused, but obviously Melanie hadn't taken her refusal. She shoved the unloved present aside, moving on to the next one. It was from Carly, she knew that because it was wrapped in blue paper and that was Carly's favorite color. She opened it and found cat food, for her stupid cat Frothy, and Gangland seasons 1-3 on DVD. She smiled really wide (which felt amazing) because she _loved _that show—it was her favorite. She hugged Carly (the only person she did that with) then hugged the DVDs. Then she turned to the next present, Freddie's.

She opened the gift bag and found a baseball bat. It was actually thoughtful as she had expressed her love for softball. Sam said nothing as she looked up at Freddie, bat hung limply in her hands. He looked pretty pleased at her reaction, as if he knew she would react like that. All of a sudden she was disgusted by her thoughts—thoughts that say _Freddie isn't as bad as you think, Sam_—because Freddie's a nerd and Sam Puckett didn't like people like that. She laughed out loud, a genuine smile on her face as she stands up and—

—thanked Freddie by hitting him in the face with the bat.

The action made Carly gasp out loud, which in turn made Sam laugh out loud. Sam didn't even hit him that hard, and she could've hit him _a lot _harder. But he was on the ground holding his cheek and Carly was at his side all worry-like and Freddie's mom came bursting through the door because she probably heard Freddie's cry when the bat made contact.

She was screaming at Carly and Freddie "What happened!" but neither of them utter a word and Sam thought it was nice that they weren't ratting her out. But it didn't do much because when Marissa looked up with fiery eyes and saw Sam standing with the bat she knew. Then she got her phone out and took a picture of the mark on Freddie's cheek—no big deal, it was just a red mark that would probably turn into a little bruise.

Then she was calling the police and Sam was acting all worry-like just as Carly was moments earlier and Carly and Freddie were pleading with her to put down the phone. But she wasn't listening, and a couple of minutes later there were cops there taking Sam by the arm and saying "Come with me," in that serious voice cops have.

Things from then on are in a blur—all of a sudden she was in a cop car, driving, and then in a flash she was at the station and in another flash she was in an interrogation room, Freddie's mom was there too, although Sam didn't know why she was there. Sam wasn't scared though, she had been to juvie twice before, but it wasn't like it was her favorite place to be. She would've rather hung out with Carly or, I don't know, eat. She had her head down, but when she looked up Marissa was showing her phone to the cop—name tag said Andy—probably showing the picture of Freddie's face. Then they left, saying they had to go print out pictures.

Her mom came to the station, frustrated that she had to be interrupted at _whatever _she was doing. Sam didn't really care, she just wanted to go home and sleep or eat or shower or something other than just sitting at the grey, metal table she was currently at. Her mom started a conversation with her about this guy she was with and how he must have had a disorder or something and Sam was just about to cut in saying gross, Mom, I don't wanna hear about your sexcapades when the cop came back in minus a Freddie's mom.

He stared laying pictures out all over the table—pictures that looked suspiciously like Freddie's puny body. Then she looked closer, leaned over and squinted her eyes, and then widened them as she realized what they were. Freddie's mom must've taken a picture of almost every mark Sam had ever left on the kid's body. There was the one he got after Sam punched him in the nose after he said she should stop eating so much, and the one she left on his ribs after kicking him because he called her a bitch. There was _so many _and part of Sam was impressed at herself for dishing it out and Freddie for taking it and surviving it all, and part of her wanted to knock herself out, wake up, then _kill _Freddie's mom.

They go through court after three days of staying wrapped up in her awesome bed, and she was sentenced to two months in juvie, the longest she had ever been sentenced. After she was scheduled to get out, school would be starting four days after that, so basically her summer was being robbed from her.

-;

After she _finally _got out, she spent the first night in her bed, sleeping for basically the first time in a month, and tending to her, albeit small, wounds. A couple days before she was let out a really big girl named Kris cut Sam in the lunch line. Now Sam, who hadn't slept in two weeks and was basically a really hungry zombie, slapped Kris' shoulder—lightly she swears—and told her to move in back of her. Kris, apparently a huge hothead, screams like a banshee then punches Sam, _hard, _right in the kisser. Normally Sam would totally kick this girl's ass, but she was extremely tired and had hardly even registered she'd been hit before she was being picked up by Kris.

Kris yelled "Aren't you gonna hit me back, _bitch?" _then proceeded to punch Sam in the stomach and lip again. Someone Sam was grateful for had yelled for the guards and they tore Kris off of her, taking her to the headquarters or wherever and leaving Sam on the floor. But, Sam took it like a woman, got up and got her lunch because that's all she'd wanted to do in the first place.

If Carly hadn't visited her Monday, Wednesday, and Friday Sam would've been at Carly's house, with Carly's worrying self asking Sam where it hurt. Instead, she had Melanie doing it, and Sam didn't mind as she had just learned Melanie was going to a fancy-prancy boarding school and leaving Sam in the dust.

The next three days she spent at Carly's house, hanging out and catching up with Carly and Freddie. Freddie's always looked incessantly scared around her, but he had no need to be—Sam promised herself she'd tone it down with the Freddie beatings, only hitting him when absolutely necessary, although she still teased him endlessly. Sam explained that she didn't blame Freddie, but that she _hated _his mom, to the point where she didn't want to see that _bitch _unless she had to.

Sam was _very _pleased when Freddie allowed her to let loose a big box of tarantulas in Marissa's room.

…

They were standing outside Ridgeway Middle School, both of their hands intertwined together.

Melanie was away at her stupid boarding school leaving Sam with her mother; her dad was away overseas leaving Carly with Spencer. They're basically polar opposites, but they sort of complete each other. Carly wouldn't be the same without Sam, and Sam wouldn't be the same without Carly. They balance each other out, Carly and Sam, Sam and Carly, best friends till the end of time, a promise they shared with each other's blood way back when.

They turned their heads to look at each other, take big breaths, and walk through the doors.

* * *

><p><em>Oh how the years go by<em>

_Oh how the love brings tears to my eyes_

_All through the changes the soul never dies_

_We fight, we laugh, we cry _

_As the years go by_

* * *

><p><strong>I don't own iCarly.<strong>

_Hope you like it! Review, favorite, whatevs. Thanks for reading, if you did read, love you all. -skylar xoxxx_


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